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You raised your head at the sound of your name being called out by a booming voice. “Minister”, you said and threw a glance at the clock. The day had gone by in a blink and you were surprised to see that it was already past seven.
“Come with me, will you.” It wasn’t a question.
You shoved your wand into the pocket of your coat and got up to hurry after Fudge who had already turned around to leave the Auror Office. “Sir, where are we going, Sir?”, you asked him as you caught up with him, which wasn’t too hard given that Cornelius Fudge had rather short legs.
“My office”, said the man with the bowler hat. He signalled the lift attendant to open the doors for you and you quickly stepped inside.
“Tell me”, began the Minister of Magic suddenly. “Any news I should be aware of? Have you made any progress on hunting down the wizards who are still claiming that we lost control over the dementors? Ridiculous nonsense”, he huffed.
You bit your tongue before you said something that you would deeply regret. “Sir, the Prophet is continuing its smear campaign against Dumbledore and Potter, just as you asked. They were able to get Ms. Skeeter to write another - may I say - deliciously scandalous article about Albus’s utter lack of discipline and carelessness he displays towards his students and work.”
“Good, very good”, said Fudge gleefully while picking a hair from his suit.
The lift had already stopped on Level 1 and you followed the Minister into the vast hallway that was exclusive to the Minister and his Support Staff. The floors were covered with thick purple carpets that swallowed the noise of your footsteps as you walked past gleaming mahogany doors, each bearing a small plaque with the office owner’s name and position engraved on it. Fudge coughed impatiently.
“Oh yes, the witnesses.” You took a deep breath. “Until a few days ago there were still three wizards and one witch who were still publicly claiming that they had seen dementors on the loose, blaming you and your team for it, Sir.”
“I know, I know”, grumbled Fudge. “My question was whether you had handled things.”
“We did, Sir. I saw to it myself that they will keep silent from now on.”
Fudge gave you a queer look from under his bowler hat. “I thought Runcorn had been the assigned Auror.”
“Yes, Sir, but I thought if I dealt with it without bothering him, it would be more efficient. After all, he’s still dealing with the aftermath of the Greystone case.” And if he had been the one to deal with them, those wizards would have met a far worse end than being put under the Confundus charm, you thought and were once again grateful that Fudge sucked at Legilimency.
“Well”, said Fudge as he walked into his office, the thick wooden doors automatically opening inwards. “I’m glad they have been dealt with.” The minister removed his hat and placed it on his desk. “Of course we don’t have the dementors under control but the public mustn’t know about that.” He laughed and clapped his hands. “Yes, yes, I think with the Prophet finally telling the readers the truth about Dumbledore and that boy, we should have little trouble now once I ask Dolores to take over.”
You blinked. Dolores Umbridge as Headmistress of Hogwarts? Until now you thought that Fudge’s warnings about revenge on Dumbledore were nothing but hot air. You tried to hide your surprise with a cough. “Yes, Sir, Dolores is an excellent choice, I am sure.” God, how you hated that woman.
“That reminds me”, Fudge began after he had sat down in his opulent desk chair. “You know the young Weasley who works here?”
“Percy Weasley? Of course, Sir, he is your Junior Assistant after all.”
Fudge waved his hand as if flicking away an annoying fly. “Not anymore.”
“You fired him?” You perked up. The last ten minutes had proven to be more exciting than the last ten hours combined.
“Oh, not fired . I demoted him. You know”, here he was leaning forward conspiratorially, “that family of his was always too supportive of Dumbledore for my taste.”
You shook your head in disbelief. “Didn’t he renounce all personal connections upon taking up a job at the Ministry?” Of course he did and you knew that Molly still got tears in her eyes whenever someone mentioned Percy but Fudge wasn’t to know how close you were with the Weasleys, and consequently Dumbledore.
“Oh yes, but you know that his father still works here. Arthur Weasley… the Muggle-obsessed one?”
“Oh, yes, Sir, he’s a total nutter. Sorry, Arthur.
“The whole family is rotten”, nodded Fudge.
“So who will be replacing him, if I may ask?”, you said while mentally listing all the possible candidates. It couldn’t be Williamson. It couldn’t be Tonks or Shacklebolt either. Fudge was not close enough with them and probably didn’t trust them enough.
The Minister leaned back in his chair with a smug smile on his face. “Why, I thought I would appoint you as my next Junior Assistant.”
You coughed. “Me, Sir?” This time you didn’t manage to hide your surprise. This is big , you thought while already mapping out all the different opportunities this new position would enable you to take advantage of. Being that close to Fudge, him conferring with you on almost every one of his plans… You swallowed while trying not to get ahead of yourself. Fudge might not be an expert in Legilimency, but he, like any other high-ranking wizard and witch working in the Ministry, was trained in the basics of reading other people’s thoughts and emotions.
“You don’t have anything to say?”, he inquired while taking up a quill.
“Err, Sir, I-”, you stuttered. The other Auror members of the Order and you had been trying for months now to get closer to Fudge in the hopes of getting to know more about his plans for Hogwarts and how strong the Death Eater’s grip on the Ministry really was, so this… exceeded all your expectations. Things were moving quickly now. Which is a good thing , you told yourself. Still, there was a sudden stab of anxiety in your gut upon realising that no matter your or the Order’s intentions, you were now up to the neck in whatever Fudge had planned for you.
“I am honoured, Sir”, you finally managed.
“Naturally”, said he without looking up from the parchment paper he was writing on, “there is still the problem of your heritage.”
You ground your teeth, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “Are my Muggle parents going to be a problem, Sir?”, you asked and couldn’t help but sound cooler than you had initially intended.
“We will keep it under wraps. No one except me will be allowed to have access to your records. But”, here he looked up to meet your eyes, “you are not to talk about it to anyone, do you understand me?”
You didn’t deem it necessary to answer. Many things Fudge said you were able to stomach; how he talked of Dumbledore and the Weasleys, but it especially hurt when he reminded you that many members of the Wizarding World still didn’t consider people like you as their equals. The only thing that kept wizards of the likes of Lucius Malfoy from openly calling you a Mudblood was your position as an Auror and the fact that Fudge trusted you.
“So…?”, asked Fudge with an eager tone in his voice.
“Sir?”
“Are you going to accept my offer?”
What would Dumbledore tell me to do if he were here? Having a member of the Order so close to Fudge would undoubtedly be of great benefit for the Order itself but there was something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Why me? The safest option would probably be to discuss the matter with Dumbledore at the meeting. Which reminded you… You stole a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. Nearly 8. Merlin’s Beard, you were late again.
“Sir, I am thankful for your trust and support but this would be a big step for me and-”
“Are you taking the job?”, interrupted the Minister.
“...and I am asking you to give me some time to think about it”, you finished your sentence.
“Oh”, Fudge looked crestfallen. “Well, I suppose I can’t deny you such a sensible request.” He faltered. “Yes, yes, perhaps it would be a wise decision to sleep on it for a couple of days. But don’t take too long!” He mockingly shook his finger.
Your smile turned sour. “No, Sir. Would that be all?”
“I suppose…”, said Fudge slowly while sifting through some papers on his desk. “Do you have anywhere to go?”
“Just home, Sir. It’s been a long day”, you replied calmly.
“Alright, yes, I suppose I can spare you for the rest of the evening.”
“Thank you, Sir”, you said and turned around to leave his office. You only paused once you were standing in one of the lifts. The grilles shut close. “Level 8, please”, you told the attendant. The lift came alive and speedily moved upwards and then to the right. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The Prophet, Dumbledore, Hogwarts, Harry Potter, the Muggles, Junior Assistant to the Minister! All those things kept replaying themselves in your head like a broken record and by the time you had arrived at the Atrium and stepped out of the lift, you felt slightly nauseous. Walking past the ever-bubbling Fountain of Brethren, you turned left to where the fireplaces for departures were situated. You pulled a silver pocket-watch out of your coat’s pocket. 8.15 .
“Padfoot is not going to be very happy about this”, you murmured and let the watch disappear again, though not without fondly brushing over the engraving on the back with your thumb.
J.P. & L.P
May we always have all the time in the world.
It had become a way of asking for good luck. Of wishing on memories of the past and hopes for the future. And it was a reminder. “Don’t hold back”, you whispered and stepped into the fire that instantly turned emerald-green. You recited your home address and closed your eyes, waiting for the familiar feeling of being folded together and taken apart all at once to set in. After a few seconds, you stepped out of the fireplace and into your living room. Hastily, you threw your cloak aside while making a beeline to your bedroom. With a flick of your wand, you opened the drawer while swiftly removing your shoes and trousers, exchanging them for a dark pair of jeans. You threw your shirt onto the bed where it started to neatly fold itself into a square.
“Come on”, you murmured while reaching for the checkered flannel shirt that was floating in midair. You shoved your wand into the back pocket of your trousers and stormed out of the apartment, locking the door with a quick “Colloportus”.
Because of the Fidelius charm Dumbledore had placed on Grimmauld Place 12, no one was able to enter or leave the place by either apparating or using the Floo Network. One had to enter via the front door.
Like a Muggle, you mused, running down the stairs two or three at atime.
Out in the street a drizzle had set in. You squinted against the light of a nearby street lantern and held up your wand to keep you dry while you were searching the pocket of your coat for your umbrella. Hermione had been the one to suggest using an Undetectable Extension Charm on some of your coats and jackets. Clever girl , you thought when your fingers brushed the handle of your umbrella. You could have continued using your wand but you didn’t want to risk a bypassing Muggle to wonder at the fact that you were staying completely dry even though you only held a stick of wood in your hand. You set off down the street with the umbrella in your left hand and your wand hand hidden beneath the folds of your coat. You didn’t trust the streets of London in broad daylight, not after the Dementor attack at Black Friars. London at night was an entirely different matter altogether.
If only Fudge wasn’t such a brainwashed idiot . You tightened the grip on your wand and doubled your pace. Only a few more steps until the street took a sharp left turn. A red telephone box was situated at the corner, hugging an abandoned repair shop. Someone had moved the phone box so it was standing directly in front of the shop’s old entry, thereby creating a secluded space, barely wide enough for two people to stand next to each other. You shut your umbrella and let it disappear into your pocket before wriggling through the space between wall and phone box.
“Expecto Patronum”, you whispered, and out of the end of your wand burst a dazzlingly bright animal. You smiled at the lynx that was pretending to creep up on some of the dead leaves that were strewing the entrance.
“Sirius”, you began and at that, your patronus perked up its ears. “I’ll be there any minute. Don’t wait for me. ” Pocketing your wand you nodded towards the feline which ran off and vanished into thin air.
With a sigh, you closed your eyes to focus on your destination. Apparating to Grimmauld Place number 12 was always a bit of a tricky business. Given that the place didn’t exist until one actively thought of it while standing in front of numbers eleven and thirteen, one couldn’t apparate directly in front of it. So you tried to concentrate on number eleven instead, picturing the grimy front of the surrounding houses, the broken windows, and curtained living rooms. You tried to recall the heaps of rubbish laying outside numerous front steps and the pungent smell of fish and then you stepped into the space in-between. For a few seconds, it felt like the skin was being peeled off your body. Your eyeballs were forced into the back of your head and your chest tightened under the pressure of an invisible force. Then you stepped out onto a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square. You got out your wand. “Accio Sirius’s note”, you murmured, and out of your pocket floated a piece of parchment.
The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
You gave it a quick look, then tapped it with the tip of your wand to light it on fire. You silently recited the message and sure enough, a battered door with the number 12 on it appeared between numbers eleven and thirteen. With it came ivy-covered walls and dirty windows. Without so much as a second glance at your surroundings, you hurried up the stone steps until you were face to face with the twisted serpent that served as a door knocker.
Not this time, you thought grimly and tapped the door with your wand. There was a series of metallic clicks and whirring noises and the door creaked open. You stepped over the threshold into the dimly-lit hall. The door closed with a groan.
“I thought I told you not to be late”, said a voice at the same moment as the old-fashioned gas lamps placed in regular intervals along the walls sputtered into life.
You jumped. “Merlin’s beard, Sirius”, you hissed.
The wizard stepped out of the shadows and into the flickering light. “Oh, you don’t have to whisper”, he said with a grin. “Remus had the ingenious idea of putting the whole corridor under an Imperturbable Charm. As long as we don’t use any form of magic in this hall, it will hold and my mother won’t be able to hear a thing.”
“Oh, good, because being angry with you for scaring the hell out of me isn’t any fun if I have to whisper”, you retorted. You took off your coat which floated to the coat hanger standing in the corner. Several other coats and jackets were already hanging there. You recognised Minerva’s tartan coat and her matching pointed hat. Albus’s cape was unmistakable with its deep plum fabric that was dotted with silver and gold stars. The run-down and patchy coat you were on the lookout for, however, was nowhere to be seen.
“He couldn’t make it”, sounded Sirius’s voice from behind you. You turned around. “I didn’t ask.” The wizard tilted his head. “It just seemed like you were looking for something.”
“I wasn’t.” You took a step closer to him.
“Okay, then”, said Sirius as he sized you up. “You look like hell.” You snorted. “Yeah, you’re not the first person to say that to my face today.”
“Then maybe I have a point.”
“Oh, you have no idea”, you said darkly.
Sirius nodded towards the end of the hall. “Go on ahead, we’ve already begun. Can I get you anything?” You raised an eyebrow. “Why so chivalrous?” “Oh, I am not”, answered your friend blatantly. “But Snivellus is in there and I’m trying to avoid him and his hair for as long as possible.”
“In that case… I’ll have a hot chocolate. With firewhiskey”, you added when you noticed that Sirius was about to say something else.
“Good idea”, he conceded and vanished into the kitchen.
You walked towards the end of the hallway and pushed open the heavy pair of wooden doors that led to the living room, carefully trying to avoid touching the pair of intertwining snakes that formed the door handle. Last time you had tried to open the door too eagerly, they had nearly bitten off one of your fingers. You stepped into the room beyond.
“-these plans are worth their weight in gold. We can use them-”, Bill Weasley stopped as you closed the door behind you.
“I’m sorry for being late, something came up”, you said contritely, giving everyone at the table a remorseful glance. The room was dark except for the two giant candelabras that had been placed on the long oak table, the candles casting the surrounding wizards and witches in a glowing twilight.
“Do take a seat”, said Dumbledore warmly. He was sitting at the head end of the table, directly opposite Shacklebolt who was occupying a seat at the other end. The Auror gave you a short smile. You nodded at him before turning back to Dumbledore as he said: “I think you have some news to share with us.” There was a twinkle in his eyes and he motioned you to sit down.
“I-yes”, you said surprised. There really was nothing that escaped that man’s notice, was there? You sat down on a chair next to Arthur, who gave you an encouraging smile. You were instantly reminded of what you had said to Fudge earlier on.
“Sorry, Arthur”, you murmured.
“What for?” The wizard looked irritated.
“Dad?”, Bill cleared his throat.
“Sorry, son, please continue”, Arthur hastily said.
“As I was saying”, continued Bill, tapping a scroll of parchment that looked like the plan of a building, “these plans for Levels 9-11 are extremely useful to us. Especially those who are not working at the Ministry.”
“They will give all of you an oversight over what the grounds we cover during guard duty look like”, came Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice from your left. “Maybe those of you who aren’t acquainted with Level Nine, take a look at the plans.” Bill nodded and handed the scroll to Tonks, who nearly knocked over one of the candelabras. Given that you had first-hand experience with Level Nine, you leaned back in your chair to observe the assembly.
Kingsley was in a discussion with McGonagall, who sat to his left and next to Tonks, who was now sporting bright red hair. The chair to your right was abandoned, probably belonging to Sirius if the half-empty glass of firewhiskey was any indication. You looked up as the door was being opened and Sirius walked in with a giant mug in his hands that he placed in front of you.
“Speak of the devil”, you laughed as he pulled out his chair and sat down next to you. “I am going to ignore that comment”, he said gracefully. “Did I miss anything important?”, he asked while you blew on your hot chocolate. “Oh wait”, he slapped his forehead in mock theatrics. “It can’t be, given that 'important' had left the room to get you something to drink.”
Despite the chatter, you heard someone utter an indignant huff. You looked up to find Snape - who was sitting in-between Bill and Dumbledore - staring at Sirius with a sneer on his face.
“Something the matter, Snivellus?”, challenged Sirius. “Cat got your tongue?”
“Sirius”, you said warningly and stomped on his right foot. Sirius flinched though he bore the pain with a smile. “Why am I not allowed to enjoy myself?”
“It’s a pity”, began Snape quietly, “that you can’t leave the house anymore, Black. You’d find so much to do in London.” Sirius reached into his pocket, undoubtedly to get out his wand, when Alastor, who was seated to Dumbledore’s left, got up. You only shook your head at Sirius before turning to Mad-Eye.
“Now”, he barked and the chatter died down. “Those who are not familiar with the plans can continue to have a look at them after the meeting’s finished.” He pointed his wand at the table that was cluttered with rolls of parchment paper. “Evanesce”, he muttered and the chaos disappeared, leaving only the two candelabras standing. “Dumbledore and I called this meeting for several reasons. Fudge is getting more and more restless.”
The Auror’s swivelling eye focused on you for a second, before moving on to Kingsley.
“The Minister”, began Shacklebolt, “is planning another smear campaign against you, Sir.” He nodded towards Dumbledore who calmly folded his hands together.
“Not just that”, you interjected. “But he’s engaged Rita Skeeter to write the article.”
Tonks groaned. “That woman is more annoying than waking up one morning and realising, that you’ve grown yourself a third eye without knowing how to get rid of it.” Minerva looked slightly indignant at the witch’s remark but refrained from saying something.
“That is a very specific comparison”, mused Sirius. Molly, who was sitting on the other side of Arthur, sighed.
“The point, Sir, is”, and with that, you turned to Dumbledore, “that she has gained a large following ever since she wrote that ridiculous article on Harry during the Triwizard Tournament. When she writes something, millions of readers are going to read it. And they’ll believe her.” You took a sip of your hot chocolate… and nearly choked on it. Just how much firewhiskey did Sirius put in there?
“I acknowledge your apprehensions”, said Dumbledore calmly. “But Cornelius, however restless he might grow, is not our main concern at the moment.”
“But Albus”, interjected Arthur, “you are already losing support among the parents. I heard some Ministry workers say that they were thinking about not sending their children back to Hogwarts after the holidays.” Dumbledore lifted a hand.
“I will continue to assure them that Hogwarts is the safest place for their children to be.”
“Hear, hear”, said Minerva. “But what are we going to do about Do- Professor Umbridge?” The witch pursed her lips. The disgust in her eyes was unmistakable.
“Earlier on Fudge mentioned that he wants her to take over soon, Albus”, you chimed in, remembering the Minister’s side remark.
“Unfortunately”, said Dumbledore, “there is nothing I can do about her.” You opened your mouth ready to protest.
“Now, I know exactly why Cornelius has sent her to Hogwarts. For now, Cornelius is content with keeping his spy at the school but we don’t know what he or the likes of Lucius Malfoy would do if I decided to… how did you put it, Nymphadora… sack her ?”
Tonks flushed. “I think I used words that were a little more descriptive.”
“Which we do not need to repeat here”, conceded Dumbledore. “But I didn’t call this meeting to discuss Professor Umbridge, however interesting the discussion of her merits might be to some of us.” Sirius snorted. “But because there have been worrying developments with Voldemort’s plans to steal the prophecy.” Molly flinched at the mention of the name.
“Severus, please tell the others of the intelligence you received”, Albus requested.
“Yeah, let’s hear what the Dark Lord’s lapdog has to say”, muttered Sirius under his breath but you decided to ignore him this time.
“A few days ago, the Dark Lord ruled that one of his followers was to put the Imperius Curse on a wizard named Broderick Bode.” You furrowed your brows. That name clearly rang a bell but you couldn’t remember where you had heard it before. “He is an Unspeakable”, added Severus. Tonks whistled.
“I met him this summer”, said Arthur, leaning forward. “When Harry had his trial at the Ministry. What happened to him?”
Severus regarded him with a cool look. “He failed to retrieve the prophecy and suffered severe spell damage.”
Your eyes widened in surprise. To be an Unspeakable meant to hold one of the most high-ranking positions within the Ministry. They were granted full immunity and didn’t even have to answer to the Minister of Magic himself.
“He has been moved to St. Mungo’s, but as of now, his injuries seem irreparable, which is why they have moved him to the Spell Damage ward”, Dumbledore said.
“Why am I only hearing about this now?”, you asked stunned. “Does Fudge know what happened?” You looked to Kingsley, but the wizard only shook his head.
“Perhaps”, began Snape slowly, “you are overestimating your importance to the Minister.” You felt a stab of anger.
“You don’t even know-”, you began hotly before Dumbledore interrupted you. “All in due time”, he said and nodded at you. You scowled but decided to leave the matter be for the moment.
Prick , you thought as clearly as you could, providing a careful opening for Snape to read your emotions. Based on his sour expression you knew that he must have picked up on it. You gave him a wicked smile before clearing your mind to prevent Severus from perceiving your further thoughts on the matter.
Molly looked shaken when she asked: “There is no chance of his recovering?” Dumbledore shook his head. “No, unfortunately, it doesn’t look like it.”
“This failed attempt to retrieve the prophecy proves two things”, said Alastor grimly. “One, the Dark Lord is getting impatient. Must have been pretty angry when he found out about Bode”. Here he looked towards Snape for confirmation, but the Potions Teacher wasn’t willing to contribute anything else to the conversation.
“Second”, continued Moody, “this won’t have been his last try. We have to redouble our efforts. All of you who work at the Ministry, I want you to work extra night shifts patrolling Level Nine. We know that the Dark Lord is desperately seeking a way to enter the Hall of Mysteries. As of now, no one present knows how to do so.”
“This puts us at an advantage, doesn’t it?”, asked McGonagall. “Should one of us be caught and questioned by a Death Eater, we couldn’t tell them how to enter that place, not even if they…”, she faltered.
“Not even if they used the Cruciatus Curse on us”, Sirius finished darkly.
You shuddered. You had seen and experienced a lot of terrible things in the years you had now been working as an Auror but the Cruciatus still remained one of the most terrible things you ever had to witness.
“Ah”, added Dumbledore. “Ignorance can be a blessing. However, there has been a development I did not foresee. Perhaps, it is time for some good news.” He gave you an encouraging look over the rim of his half-moon glasses. You smiled weakly, noticing how the others had gone silent.
“I-”, you began and swallowed nervously. “Today, Fudge offered me the position of Junior Assistant. He fired Percy and wants me to replace him.” You let out a deep breath, aware that everyone was still staring at you. You could feel your ears growing hot. Sirius was the first one to recover.
“Good for you, Claws”, he said and patted you on the back.
“Congratulations”, said Minerva earnestly.
“That means we have an Order member being around Fudge every day, all the time?”, asked Tonks with bright eyes. “Not that I envy you”, she laughed, “but that’s amazing news.”
“I- I haven’t accepted yet”, you said cautiously as you turned to Arthur and Molly next to you. Mr. Weasley had gone very white at the mention of his son’s name and Molly was using a handkerchief to dab at her eyes.
“Oh, please”, said Arthur and made a dismissive gesture. “Having a member of the Order working so closely with Cornelius… that is an opportunity we shouldn’t turn away. Isn’t that right, Alastor?” You watched the Auror for any sign of his usual grumpiness but even he seemed to be pleasantly surprised.
“I asked Fudge to give me a few days to think about it, I wanted to discuss-”
“Nonsense”, interrupted Alastor. “Of course you are going to accept. This is just what we needed. Finally, we have an opening to get closer to Fudge.”
“The thing is-”, you interjected but Moody’s voice drowned out all you were going to say as he was beginning to talk with vitality about what Fudge’s proposal meant to the near future of the Order. You swallowed hard as the queasy feeling in your stomach returned. Why am I still not being listened to? You suddenly felt like crying for no apparent reason. Perhaps it had all been too much lately. Working 24/7, dealing with the Dementor and Muggle cases, never getting enough sleep, attending Order meetings. The weight of your responsibilities pressed down on you like a ton of stone.
“Hey, everything alright?”, asked Sirius silently.
You forced yourself to a smile and sat up straighter. “Yeah, it’s just been a long day.”
“Liar”, he murmured but before you could say something he turned to Shacklebolt, involving him in a discussion about the safety measures surrounding Level Nine.
The meeting went on for another half an hour, with Alastor, Fudge, Minerva and Arthur going over the plans for the next few days in detail. The Order would try and double its guards on Level Nine and always have at least two members patrolling the floor day and night. Dumbledore had said very little during the rest of the meeting and you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed at how he hadn't felt the need to comment on your news. It wasn’t Alastor you had wanted to discuss your job offer with and you had hoped to get a second opinion from Dumbledore. When you looked up, however, the meeting had already ended and he and Snape had already left.
You downed the rest of your hot chocolate in one go, blinking back tears at the pungency of the firewhiskey. The others were making to leave the room and you saw Sirius get up to see them off.
“Glad you could make it tonight, dear”, said Molly as she was making her way past you. “Of course, Molly”, you said with a tired, albeit genuine smile. “It was nice seeing you and Arthur again.”
She gave you a gentle squeeze. “Take care of yourself, will you? And congratulations on your promotion.” With that she hurried out of the living room, leaving you alone at the table. You made to get up when Sirius came sauntering back into the room.
“Oh, you don’t want to leave already, do you?”
You yawned. “Sirius, it’s late.”
“Stay for a nightcap?”, he asked and there was something in his voice that made you falter. Heaving a sigh, you nodded. “Alright. But I’ll have tea. You put a little too much firewhiskey in my hot chocolate.”
“Well, I never said my hot chocolate was as good as Remus’s.”
You decided it was best to ignore him.
“Besides, you looked like you could use it.” Sirius motioned to the door. “Let’s go into a dining room. I asked Kreacher to light a fire.”
You snorted. “Sirius, you could have done that with a flick of your wand!”, but you willingly followed him out of the door and into the room that lay just to your right.
Sirius moved over to the fireplace set in the middle of the opposite wall where he had set up two cozy armchairs. The fire cast long shadows over the rug and tapestry, the flames were flickering this way and that way, crackling as they devoured the dry wood. You closed the door behind you while Sirius conjured up a small table, set with a teapot and two matching sets of cups and saucers. You moved closer to the fire, thankfully soaking up its warmth.
“Not too much sugar”, you warned him.
“I do remember how you like your tea”, he said from behind you.
You turned around and graciously accepted the teacup that was floating towards you. “Thanks, I really needed that”, you sighed and sat down in one of the armchairs, enjoying the velvety feel of its cushions.
“So”, began Sirius once he had sat down as well. “How are you really feeling about being Fudge’s Junior Assistant?”
You put down the teacup after taking a careful sip. “Really? Is that why you wanted me to stay?”
“Come on”, the wizard said. “I can tell you’re not overjoyed.”
You leaned back and stared into the fire, thinking about the strange turn this day had taken.
“You always wanted to work in a high position”, ventured Sirius.
You sighed. “See, that’s the thing.” You massaged your temples. Why did everything have to be so complicated?
“When I joined the Ministry, you know I did so because I wanted to make an impact. I had this idea of fighting the good fight, you know? Working alongside James and Lily, hunting down evil wizards and Death Eaters. After James and Lily… after”, you took a deep breath, “after they were gone I put everything I could into my work. It became my life. I wanted them to be proud of me, you know?”
Sirius swallowed visibly. “They would have been”, he said silently.
You grimaced. “And I wanted to make them proud. To honour what they had died for. But during the last few years, I just, I’ve become so tangled up with Fudge and the things I didn’t even get involved in, that this…”, you paused. “This doesn’t feel like I have earned it. I am not fighting the bad guys. Hell, I am working for them!” The fire flared up for a few seconds.
“I just wish this would have happened under normal circumstances, you know?” You threw Sirius a glance and noticed that he was watching you intently. “It doesn’t feel right and it doesn’t make me happy. And I don’t want to take the job because the Order thinks I could be useful. I want to take the job because I want to.” You shook your head. You hadn’t planned to be so honest with Sirius. You took another sip of your tea.
“And the reason you’re working so much, why is that? You are a great Auror, one of the best from what I’ve heard. Why is it that you’re burying yourself in work?”
You made to answer that you had little else to do, that working as an Auror was still fulfilling, when you noticed that as soon as those thoughts came into your mind, they vanished again.
“I-”, you began but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. “I just”, you started once more but the words you had meant to say died on your lips. “I don’t want to-”, you bit your tongue before the words you didn’t want to say could leave your mouth. Merlin’s beard, what was going on? You fought with everything you had but you couldn’t resist the pressure that was building up inside you.
“Because I am lonely”, you finally burst out. You clapped a hand to your mouth.
“How lonely?”, asked Sirius as he leaned forward eagerly.
“No, Sirius”, you said weakly and tried to keep your mouth shut until you felt like choking on your own words. But you couldn’t hold them back. They burst forth like water that had been restricted by a dam.
“I am so lonely I could scream. Every morning I wake up hoping that going to work will make me feel less lonely but it just reminds me of how alone I am. I work longer and longer hours so I don’t have to endure the silence reigning in my rooms.” The confession left you shaken and you took a deep breath, trying to stay calm when all you wanted to do was rage. “Why did you put Veritaserum in my tea?”, you asked and you tried to sound angry, you tried to sound hateful but you were too tired to manage even that. Instead you felt your eyes filling with tears. "Why did you do it, Sirius?"
Sirius shifted in his chair. “You would have avoided my questions otherwise.”
That is not true , you wanted to say but as hard as you tried, you couldn’t turn your thoughts into words.
“So it is true.”
“Sirius, I am begging you. Just- leave me be.” You tried to swallow your hurt and anger, knowing that if you allowed yourself to cry now, you wouldn't be able to stop.
Your friend’s face twisted with pain. “You’re hurting, Claws.”
Hearing him call you by your old nickname conjured up memories from a time long ago. When you had been careless and happy. When the world had felt bigger. It reminded you of days in the sun spent at the Great Lake, Quidditch matches, playing Wizard’s Chess with James, and sitting next to Remus on a couch in the Gryffindor common room, reading a book while outside the rain was beating against the windows.
May we always have all the time in the world. What a lie that saying had proved to be.
“I want you to move in with me”, Sirius said suddenly.
“What?”
“Just for Christmas”, added Sirius quickly.
“Where is this coming from, Sirius?”, you asked.
The wizard raised his shoulders. “I thought it would be nice to have you here. Molly and Arthur have agreed to stay here as well, at least while the kids are still at school.”
“No, Sirius”, you said more forcefully than you had intended. “After the stunt you pulled just now you owe me the truth.”
Sirius paused.
“If you won’t tell me, I will walk out of this house and not come back”, you said and you knew that you meant it, otherwise the potion wouldn’t have allowed you to speak.
“I am lonely, too”, his voice wavered. “I haven’t left this house in months . I can’t contribute anything to the Order except for providing this dusty house that I didn’t even want to inherit in the first place. Kreacher drives me mad and most members see me as a liability. I miss you, and Remus. I miss who we were.”
You swallowed, knowing that you were entering dangerous territory. “You could have just asked me, you know?”, you whispered, still shaken from the effort of holding in everything at once.
Sirius watched you carefully. “You wouldn’t have admitted it.”
You don’t know that , you wanted to say but all that came out was: “you’re right”.
“You never liked admitting when you didn’t feel well. To you, it’s like accepting defeat. You and Remus are alike in that respect.”
“Did you drink the Truth Serum or did I?”, you grunted.
“I am just saying what we all knew”, said Sirius and there was a ghost of the smile on his face that had been more than a memory back in the day.
“Do you miss him, too?”
Too tired to fight against the potion, you just dipped your head back and without missing a beat said: “Of course.” It was the best you could do under the circumstances. You couldn’t lie and you hoped that this admission would be enough to satisfy Sirius. Luckily, he seemed not to want to deepen the topic.
“So are you going to stay here, with me?”, he finally dared. “You could ask Fudge for a few days off, you know. Tell him you need to think about what he said and that in order to do that you needed some time to clear your head.”
“I could do that”, you admitted, annoyed at how strong the Truth Serum’s effects on you still were.
“I know I haven’t been completely honest with you, but do you want to stay with me?”, asked Sirius suddenly.
There was something to his voice. An unspoken wish, a truth not dared to speak out loud. That something was usually kept hidden, buried beneath layers of self-confidence, shameless arrogance and self-assurance. It served as a reminder that perhaps, the little boy who chose Gryffindor not because he was brave, but because he was scared of seeing what would become of him if he joined Slytherin, was still in there; had always been there. With a desperate wish to belong.
“Yes”, you whispered and you knew it to be true.